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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654267">The Still of Your Hand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffee423/pseuds/blackcoffee423'>blackcoffee423</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, Ignis gets caught in the rain, Mentioned Noctis Lucis Caelum, Romantic Fluff, Workplace Relationship, cw alcohol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:19:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffee423/pseuds/blackcoffee423</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Your co-worker Ignis has always been friendly, but it might take a chance encounter away from the office to see just how blind to him you've been.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ignis Scientia/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My first fic! Let me know what you think! </p><p>Tried to keep it without details noting the reader character’s gender or identity, so it’s open</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rain started pouring harder outside, pattering rhythmically on the wide, paned window in your living room. It was only the afternoon, but it was so dark and grey, it felt like dusk.</p><p>Finally, a Saturday off. It was just your luck that the weather had shifted at the last second — “rain, with temperatures dropping” — and thwarted your plans for a walk in the cool crisp of mid-fall. The cascade of autumn colours was now just about perfect to be taken in. It had been weeks since you’d had two consecutive days off, a constant run of work being something pretty typical in your career at the Citadel, so walk notwithstanding, you weren’t going to let today and tomorrow go to waste just because of a little rain. </p><p>Staying home, you’d cleaned the apartment, caught up on life-stuff and texts from friends, and genuinely just *enjoyed* the last two hours, cup of warm tea steaming in your hand. The floral and spicy aroma wafted about and comforted as you’d flipped lazily through magazines and books. You’d snuggled into your favourite pyjamas: cozy heather grey, form-fitting in a style that made you feel cute and fresh, while still incredibly at home. It was, you had to admit, one of the most relaxing days you had experience in a long while. </p><p>You checked the time, noting it was not even 5; normally, you’d be eyeballing the clock in your office by now, despite having at least two more meetings between you and your trek home. Today, you were thinking of cooking something nice, some recipe more complicated than a typical weeknight would allow, followed by savouring the meal with a favourite movie. </p><p>Taking one last glance through the window overlooking your street before turning to grab some more hot water, thunder rang out, and lightning bleached the neighbourhood outside in flashing waves immediately after. Amongst the sheets of rain, a figure was illuminated—one you recognized. Your co-worker, Ignis, was bolting in long strides along the sidewalk right out front, one hand over his head. You caught him just as a glimpse of realization came over his face as he turned to look at your townhouse, then second guess trickled across it and he continued heading forwards again. </p><p>Thunder clapped once more as the gigantic drops poured down with even more gusto. </p><p>He hardly had a chance to act or think before you were setting down your tea cup in a rush, padding firmly to the front door and pulling it open. You called out his name, waving wildly through the clattering water. </p><p> </p><p>You wouldn’t quite consider Ignis Scientia a friend; more of a well-acquainted coworker who you sometimes shared a break room anecdote or laugh with. It had started around the Ebony machine a few months back, shortly after offices rearranged and you first crossed each other’s paths. From there, it escalated to discussing methods for time management and book recommendations. As the summer beat onward, the heat sweltering outside your air conditioned offices, you shared your favourite iced coffee recipe. Ongoing banter about the place of cream and sugar in caffeinated beverages became a sweet treat of its own — you believed it had its place, while Ignis wasn’t shy to reveal how he felt about black coffee — and each of these conversations punctuated your weeks, the laughter at both intentional and unintentional humour alleviating your stress in small bursts. </p><p>Most recently, it was a conversation about style. Yours had always been a bit on the edgier side, even in a formal work environment. It was a delicate balance you’d been proud to perfect. Ignis had picked up on a skull-shaped ring you often wore, complimenting it. He had shown off a similarly shaped pendant usually found hanging from his neck with a hint of a smile. </p><p> </p><p>Standing in the doorway of your home now with your hair messy, clad in pyjamas and thick socks, frantically gesturing, you wondered for a second if he’d recognize you. But of course—that look back towards the townhouse; he knew where you lived. He had driven you home a few weeks ago, after the late work dinner a group of you went to had run even later than expected. Always the gentleman, he wouldn’t rest til every last one of you had made it inside somewhere safely. That day you found out that you lived in nearby neighborhoods. </p><p>Ignis seemed to catch your wave now and ducked in your direction, splashing inside just as you stepped back to close the door behind him. </p><p>“I’m so sorry to come here like this,” he apologized instantly, hand still up over his now mostly flattened, dripping hair.</p><p>“Don’t even think about it,” you breathed, stepping around him and half-laughing. “Where are you heading in this?” </p><p>“Ah, I was just out for training and thought I could get a run in before the storm. I pushed it too far; and this is what you get.” He gestured vaguely to himself, suddenly seeming unsure whether to remove his shoes or stay perfectly still, water pooling steadily around him on the front hall tile. </p><p>You realized now that he was indeed in workout gear. A sleek top top with long sleeves rolled to rest just above the elbows, and slick black pants of some description were practically plastered to him from the rain. </p><p>“Oh oh, you must be freezing. That was nearly me today, too. Come warm up a sec!” You cooed. </p><p>He finally settled on shoe removal. As he bent down, rain shook off his face and head. Two beads of water in particular dropped from the edge of his sleeves and slicked onto a smooth, slightly sculpted forearm. You felt yourself transfixed, following their slow trajectory down; down; around a wrist; a fingertip, then dashing to the floor. He glanced up between shoes, slicing your line of vision as green eyes pierced between sections of wet hair. “Thank you kindly.” </p><p>“Do you want some tea? Actually, first, hang on. I can give you something warm to change into.” Fighting the strangely intense draw of your gaze, your mind kicked into it’s comfort zone: problem-solving. You started bustling down the hallway a few steps, your voice returning to its typical firm and confident. </p><p>“There’s no need,” came the quick protest from Ignis. “I can just wait out the rain a few minutes and be on my way. No need to disturb your—day off?” His eyes followed to where you’d headed on the first few stairs, taking in your outfit and words. </p><p>Fighting a slight blush creeping in, you replied just as quickly, “It’s supposed to rain through the evening.” A dry grimace. “More thunder storming like this. You honestly aren’t interrupting much, except some really intense chilling out. Come on,” you persuaded. You couldn’t just leave him on his way to hypothermia. </p><p>Finally straightening up, shoes off, Ignis followed in your direction towards the first door on the second level, the spare bedroom. You set him up with a towel and some socks, then headed off to dig through your closet; you knew you had some sweaters that were at least a “men’s” medium, and some flannel pants that should work. </p><p>Moments later, warm, dry clothes in hand, you knocked on the door of the spare room. </p><p>“Come in,”</p><p>You pushed it open a crack, then the full way. </p><p>Ignis was standing on the far side of the bedroom, in the middle of towel-drying his wet mess of sandy brown hair. His sopping shirt was draped out along the wrought iron frame of the bed, leaving his back bare to you as he faced the window. </p><p>A warm flush filled your gut as he spun around casually, exposing his lithe but muscular form. Seeing the clothes in your hands, he stepped toward you and gathered them, pulling on the fresh shirt efficiently.</p><p>“Thank you, sincerely, for this.” He said. You voiced that it was no big deal. “Well, I wasn’t expecting my proposition to lead to something this soon, or under these circumstances,” he stated emphatically.</p><p>“Oh, well, me either.”  You laughed, a little awkwardly, remembering. </p><p>One of your last conversations in the kitchen at work had ended with him saying: </p><p>“You know, if schedules ever allowed it, it would be enjoyable to spend some time with you. Outside of work.” Ignis had watched your reaction to it, staying oddly still, but a glint played in his eye after the witty repartee you had shared moments before. </p><p>You didn’t think much of it at the time, though you brushed through with a positive reception to it; you assumed he didn’t mean much by it, either. Free time was scarce for the both of you. It had clearly been a simple, friendly statement, though it appeared that now you were getting to do just what he suggested.</p><p>“I’ll pop this in the dryer for a bit, and leave you to change,” you smiled and went to reach for his athletic shirt. Ignis reached to hand it to you at the exact same second. Your hands nearly collided. The place where his fingers barely grazed the back of your hand stung with electric shock— a bolt of warmth shot straight from your arm and through your centre like fire. Within an instant, it was gone.</p><p>You must have visibly recoiled, because Ignis gave you a look. His eyes narrowed in almost imperceptible question before resting on a calm expression; standing straight, almost waiting for you to explain yourself. You had no words. Trying (and perhaps struggling) to maintain composure, you took the shirt, left him like you said you would, and set to your task. </p><p>In the hall, you interrogated yourself: what was this? You weren’t some youngling, paralyzed and enticed by a man wearing nothing more or less than he’d have on at the beach. You were an adult, and you’d seen much more than that in your days. It surprised you, but your reaction wasn’t purely physical— that warmth— though his touch had felt so soft, despite the suddenness of the movement. He seemed so comfortable with it. And that look he gave you...</p><p>You mindlessly found yourself in the kitchen, turning on the kettle again, falling . It was like a mental lens was put into place in considering that last interaction, and a memory reel started rushing before your eyes: the way his fingers had lightly brushed your knuckles slightly that day he had complimented your ring. His long, chatty goodbye that could only be described as almost giddy, while he half-hung out his car window after he dropped you off that night. His smile as he left the break room, week after week, and your face aching from smiling back. Then, his suggestion of seeing you, to the point of even bringing the sentiment back up again now. </p><p>Maybe there had been intent behind it?<br/>
Why did it seem like he was reading something in you— something that you weren’t even aware of? </p><p>The subject of your thoughts interrupted them by walking into the room. The grey-beige Henley and plaid flannel pants you lent fit him perfectly, the top left partially unbuttoned. Only the fuzzy socks, each patterned with pink bunny rabbits, stood out.</p><p>You pushed your lips closed to hide a smile at those, trying not to embarrass him, and met the vibrant green eyes now shining through his clean spectacles. </p><p>Sometimes when his gaze was fixed on yours like this, you had a strange sensation at the back of your throat, a tightness mixed with urgency. Feeling it again in that moment, something clicked. </p><p>Yes, you had enjoyed every minute you’d had with him. You were vaguely aware of how you admired his calm tenacity, his ridiculous puns. His selflessness and incredible mind. And you wouldn’t deny it; anyone with eyes could tell he was damn handsome. You didn’t know how you’d been so oblivious to your own feelings, but in this relaxed moment, it was incredibly clear: you liked him.<br/>
You probably had for a while.<br/>
It seemed like he was patiently, respectfully, telling you he was curious about you, too.</p><p>And now he was standing in your kitchen. </p><p>“Tea? Or actually — I can make hot cocoa?” You offered, swallowing, grounding yourself in the real world.</p><p>“Hot cocoa would be lovely,” he accepted coolly, stepping further into the room. “Would you happen to have another cloth I could use? I’m so sorry to be a bother.” He pulled out his cell phone from the pants pocket and displayed it; of course, it was still beaded with water. </p><p>“Oh, no worries.” After you handed him a knitted square, he pushed his glasses up his nose and busied himself in removing the case from the phone in careful, calculated movements. Each piece received a gentle wipe and a methodical place on the countertop before the next one’s turn. </p><p>Slight reverence bubbling in your chest, you searched for your attention again: hot cocoa. Mugs first. Water was heating. Milk was out of the fridge. You could feel your blood pumping; was your heart beating fast, or just hard? You stepped to the counter, realizing that the cocoa was kept in the upper cupboard right beyond where Ignis was set up.</p><p>A moment passed. You could ask him to move.</p><p>Instead, you stayed bravely planted where you were, observing the small space left between him and the cabinet. Each movement was intentional as you turned your back against the counter and slid your hand out to reach the handle. Ignis was absorbed in his task, head bent over slightly. You bit your lip in amusement at the shenanigans, at the personal space that you were now deliberately tip-toeing the edges of to sneakily reach your target— not quite conscious of the intention to test the chemistry of another encounter against your newfound knowledge. </p><p>Exhilaration stole your breath as your hand slowly extended, nearly gaining its mark, your body leaning over ever so, so slightly— when Ignis’s head snapped up, taking in your position all at once. You froze, and grinned. For someone with such intense battle training, he was hilariously unaware of his peripherals when focused. </p><p>Drunk on that glee for a moment, you were caught by something you weren’t prepared for: now out of his task and looking forwards, Ignis’s face was mere inches from yours. You could count every hair finger-combed gently back off his forehead if you wanted to, and felt his vaguely rapid, shallow breath. His head tilted in your direction, </p><p>“Wh— “ he started to speak, but the words drifted off to a whisper just as quickly, leaving his mouth hanging open ever so slightly.</p><p>Your frozen state reached real levels as your outstretched arm cemented into place, your hand death gripping the handle as your body called its own bluff. You could swear electricity hummed from him with every heartbeat.</p><p>“Cocoa,” you uttered in a small voice, eyes darting to the cupboard and back quickly, not quite forming the sentence you had planned. </p><p>You scanned his face for a second, finally meeting his eyes. The two of you enrolled in an almost vicious match of silent, contemplative looks; reading each other; observing and absorbing, challenging and pushing; each flashing between your eyes in a calculated dance of microexpressions in a matter of milliseconds. Then something broke in his gaze, and you sensed your face relax; understanding. It felt like you hadn’t blinked for an eternity, and your eyes fluttered.</p><p>In that blink, his head tilted a degree, and finally his mouth crashed into yours. His kiss was purposeful, but soft. You opened your lips slightly, beckoning him to do the same. At the smallest flick of his tongue in response, and your insides ignited for the third time today.</p><p>He pulled back just far enough to study your face again. The green of his eyes was darker somehow— more intense. He breathed deeply, and a tender smile crept his mouth. </p><p>“After the hot cocoa is done,” Ignis whispered, accent lilting through his low voice, “would you allow me the honour of cooking dinner for you?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Check the end for a hot cocoa recipe if you want to get cozy and enjoy ~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“That would be,” you breathed in reply, “lovely.”</p><p>Ignis’s right hand was on the small of your back, you realized, with no recollection of how or when it got there. Lips still curled into a small smile, he lowered his touch and backed away, gesturing towards the cupboard you were grasping with white knuckles. </p><p>“I’ll leave you to your task then.”</p><p>He stood by, making pleasant small talk while you assembled indulgent beverages for two following the favourite self-made recipe you’d been falling back on since your teens. It was amazingly simple, all coming down to perfect proportions and a sneaky secret of extra dark chocolate melted in the bottom. Still, somehow, it was unnecessarily difficult to focus on. You left most of the conversation to Ignis, until, warm mugs in hand, you headed to the living room. </p><p>You chose seats on opposite edges of the inner corner of your sleek grey sectional. Your legs nearly brushing as Ignis sat with one knee crossed over the other, leaning on top with an elbow. As forecast, the storm still raged outside. Ignis blew on his drink occasionally until it reached temperature, his face an icy mask of calm. It was the only sound other than rain for a while, this moment a mirror of the way you’d spent so much of your afternoon, only now the room was alive with such a different energy. You found it hard to relax, mind abuzz, mug clutched in your lap. After a little while, </p><p>“This is quite good,” he said, savouring a sip. </p><p>“Thank you.” you thought for a moment, not quite sure whether to say what slipped out next. “I’m sorry if I’ve been, um, aloof.” You convinced yourself to glance at him, then locked eyes onto his face. </p><p>“Oh, no, please don’t apologize. You don’t owe me anything.” His voice was even. He sipped again.  “And I wouldn’t take anything you’ve done as aloof.” The earnestness made you believe it; it was the tone you’d hope to hear from the most supportive friend. </p><p>After a pause, he added in the quietest voice, “...even if I am glad you came around, <em> eventually.</em>” His expression shifted, pleased mischief and a tiny smirk dancing below the surface. Despite it, the tops of his tanned cheeks glowed the slightest pink. </p><p>Your regard towards him changed in an instant. Mocking an air of being truly offended, mouth open, your retort was quick. “Maybe you should’ve been a little more direct about your intentions. When I’m at work, I’m usually thinking about, oh, <em>work</em>.”</p><p>“Would you have preferred I pin you to the cupboard in the kitchens on our floor instead? I’m sure the Prince would have been happy to see I was using my time at the office most productively.” This bold sass took you for a spin. </p><p>“You wouldn’t.” You blurted.</p><p>“Hmm. Try me.”</p><p>It was his turn to lean into glee now. His mouth stayed tightly shut as he hid his face in his mug with cheeks burning even brighter than the fire now alight in his eyes.</p><p>You returned to silent drinking, occasionally peering in his direction, not quite relaxed but able to enjoy the sounds of the rain again.</p><p>After several more minutes, Ignis got up, facing you. “I don’t mean to rush, but I am really needing some sustenance after my workout. Shall I begin on our dinner?” He reached out a hand to help you up.</p><p>“Of course,” you took your last swig of now cooling chocolatey decadence, then taking his offer, joined him in standing. Fingers intertwined naturally and at that sensation, you lost the battle with your mouth, a beaming smile winning out. His touch was so smooth. He smiled back.</p><p>In the kitchen, you gave him a quick tour. After you described the meal you had been planning for yourself for the night, he spent a few seconds pondering, stroking his jaw, before he dove into pouring over and sorting the ingredients.</p><p>“What part should I get started on?” you asked.</p><p>“Cooking is the least I can do, what with your hospitality, and supplying the food. I’d enjoy it.” he replied while engrossed in selecting a red onion. His experience was becoming apparent.</p><p>“Only if you’re sure.” You observed a second. “But can I please at least chop something?” </p><p>He offered you some garlic. You let him take the lead and started peeling, pointing out cooking implements, and ransacking the spice cabinet as needed.</p><p>It was a wonder in itself to see Ignis, a man so composed, so unreadable in the times you’d seen him entrenched in his “day” job, now acting with a similar intensity— except here, he was driven by a different passion, and creativity. </p><p>Working on the cutting board, you understood the fascination you’d had with that forearm when he arrived earlier, as he neatly rolled up these sleeves, too. Today was one of the first times you’d noticed him without gloves; his large hands were beautiful. Moving deftly and confidently, an artist creating strokes of perfectly squared chops across his canvas of colourful vegetables, he made quick work, timing each step of the meal perfectly. The orchestra of pans sizzling and lids gently lifting and setting filled the room as he incorporated ingredients and kept a watchful eye, taking small taste tests and adjusting seasonings. </p><p>Within half an hour or so when things seemed closer to ready, you switched to preparing the eating area.</p><p>A proper dinner in the dining room — some structure and formality to a first shared meal — would be lovely. The idea didn’t quite fit tonight, though, with the two of you in pyjamas, having essentially eaten your dessert first. </p><p>An idea struck, and you headed into the adjoining room, your own creativity and pondering taking over.</p><p> </p><p>A few minutes later, you padded back into the kitchen. Hesitating, then placing a soft hand on the edge of Ignis’s back, you broke his concentration as he stirred something that smelled scrumptious. He shifted a bit to angle his warm, firm body into your touch.</p><p>Soaking in this simple sensation before speaking, you eventually let him know, “the table is ready whenever you are.”</p><p>“Right, thank you. I’ll just plate these up.” He replied swiftly, then started filling the dishes you had set out on the counter.</p><p>Leading him through the dining room, you saw his eyes scan the room, darting over the empty table and calculating. Decoy route aside, you continued back through to the living room, stepping aside to reveal the sight: cushions and pillows placed on the floor around the coffee table, upon which two place settings, wine glasses, and an open bottle were sitting. They formed a snug nook in the square of space inside the sectional, and you’d lit a few candles — standard jarred ones, nothing fancy, but still — enough to add a flicker  and warmth to the regular lighting as the storm dimmed the outdoors nearly to black. </p><p>Ignis turned his head to you, a twinkle in his eyes, then stepped forward to set the plates down in their places. </p><p>As you took your seat on a cushion across from him, he introduced the meal as it had been prepared. He had certainly taken inspiration from your suggestion, but new combinations made it almost unrecognizable: perfectly braised meat, crisp vegetables, warm sweet potatoes, and a dill sauce you couldn’t have imagined were each presented in beautiful, near-restaurant quality arrangement.</p><p>You dug in slowly, noticing Ignis’s eyes trained on you as you took your first bite. It was delightful; possibly the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten. Seeming quietly pleased by this reaction, he then started on his own plate.</p><p>Between eating, you discussed your experience with cooking; a hobby you’d enjoyed for years. The conversation flowed smoothly, familiarly; but now, you surveyed him as he discussed his own culinary experimentations, self-education, and interest in baking; felt newly compelled to take in his answers and remember the little nuggets he offered about his past. His work meant so much to him that even creative endeavours like this were peppered with a sense of duty and purpose tied back to the focus of his every waking moment.</p><p>“I can’t take too many things on, especially when they have the potential to take my time away from Noctis. He has to be my first priority,” he shared intensely, leaning back on his hands on the floor. You’d both moved off eating at the table slowly, getting more and more cozy in the nest you’d created around it. With his chest wide like this, the light played off his collarbones, forming delightful shadows between the open buttons of his shirt. </p><p>“But I’m thankful when life grants me time to consider, and then I am thoroughly confident in how I choose to invest my time. However things may transpire from there,” He remained silent for a moment. The feeling of him looking straight at you was just enough to understand his meaning. </p><p>Your mind was empty of words. You’d done your best to get away all evening with only moments of numb brain or small silly smiles, but at this confession, your cheeks burned so intensely you were sure you were rivaling the candle as a light source. Staring down beyond your legs for a moment, you thought of the vast difference between yourself and this man; contemplating you for months on end before you’d had the mind to even notice. But at least you were on the same page now.</p><p>The sound of him placing his empty plate onto the table came while you formulated a response, buffering and examining your own floor. Then lightning flashed outside again, and everything went black.</p><p>You heard the distinct <em>whump</em> as all of your electronics died, and every light in the house and neighbourhood flicked away at once. Only the few candles in the room stayed bright.</p><p>“Well, it’s a good thing we didn’t have big plans for the night.” Ignis’s jovial voice appeared just to your left. Opened wide, your eyes worked to adjust to the sudden light shift, during which he’d apparently managed to crawl the last couple of feet to your side. Taking in the close proximity of his thigh and knee to yours, you found enough voice to joke back in agreement. </p><p>“I guess a power outage shouldn’t be that surprising in this. I’m glad I went all out for the candles.” </p><p>A low, musical chuckle came in reply. “They do certainly suit the situation.”</p><p>Fingers found your chin. A gentle tug pulled your willing face up. His eyes met yours, then he made almost no hesitation before going in for a kiss. You breathed him in; a floral, lemon musk mixed with the scents of sea salt and lavender. Leaning into his body, both of his hands met the sides of your face and neck. One of yours found its way up into his hair, raking through where it was still barely damp, anchoring you into him just as his lips fell to your chin, jaw, and eventually, neck.</p><p>Tension and excitement roiled inside you in response. Mouths met again and your hand found his waist. Without making the conscious choice to, a fingertip hooked under the hem of his shirt, toying towards the skin just beyond.</p><p>He mumbled into your mouth, barely audible, “There’s plenty of time for that, later.” The feeling of his smile made you catch yourself and breathe deeply again, willing your pulse to slow a little. He was right.</p><p>Breaking apart shortly after, unaware of how much time had really passed, you sat back on your feet and looked him up and down while he did the same. There was a slight, swollen pink newly gracing his mouth.</p><p>“What if we went for a walk one day? The fall colours are just about perfect right now.” You straightened up and looked at him brightly, then made your way up onto the seat of the couch. “That’s actually what I’d been hoping to do today, before all of this.” The sounds of rain drummed away in the complete abyss of darkness outside, the only sound for a second.</p><p>Ignis followed you upwards, settling back into the couch. “I’d love that.” His hand gently went for yours, intertwining fingers again on your lap. “I could drive us out somewhere; perhaps pack a picnic.” </p><p>“That’s... a great idea.” You had just been thinking of finding a park nearby, but this; it sounded perfect.</p><p>He made deliberate, searching eye contact then said, “Let’s call it a date.”</p><p>Conversation continued to flow and you snuggled in, bringing pillows to join you. As alertness waned, things veered from more sharing and relating, where he listened keenly and offered sound, thoughtful reflection; towards asking sillier questions like favourite colours and whether he would consider pizza a sandwich. He went into a tirade of technicalities, analyzing each side of the argument on that topic, and you couldn’t help but laugh.</p><p>You sleepily pressed your forehead into the nook of his shoulder, and his arm draped around to your lower back in response, creating the perfect cocoon to cuddle into. Gentle circles played up and down your spine, Ignis’s fingers mimicking the glimmer of the candles as they burned lower and lower.</p><p>You must have fallen asleep, because your next grounding memory was the sensation of lips meeting your temple, gentle as a whisper; then, the same on the corner of your mouth. Body weight shifted from under your arm on the sofa, and a shadow moved in the grey-blue room as your eyes fought to flicker open. </p><p>You blinked heavily to push away the pain of tiredness. The room was suddenly flooded with hazy, golden light from beyond the end of the couch. More time must have passed again. A rustle to find your watch confirmed: it was now well after 9 am. The cold absence of anyone sent an immediate pang.</p><p>Sitting up, a peek into the hallway confirmed that Ignis’s shoes were gone. A beat of confused disappointment passed slowly through your foggy mind, until you noticed that your notepad was placed differently than normal. A black pen lay next to it in the middle of the coffee table among the burned down candles, unable to be missed.</p><p>On the top sheet you found a neat scrawl:</p><p>
  <em><br/>
My personal number<br/>
xxx.xxx.xxx</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Have an excellent day, love. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>Laying back on the couch, the priorities and focuses of the previous afternoon rushed back. You stared at the ceiling, not seeing anything in front of you; instead, you took stock of the last barely 18 hours, puzzle pieces floating across your mind and one by one finding and fitting into new edges of potential. Questions buzzed around, and excitement followed each one. </p><p>You felt the notepad in your hands.<em> Love. </em></p><p>Work tomorrow would be interesting.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hot Cocoa (makes one mug, easy to multiply)</p><p> 1 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder<br/>1.5-2 tsp sugar (depending on how sweet you like it)<br/>0.25 cup milk<br/>1 tbsp cream or half-and-half<br/>A pinch of salt, a small dash of vanilla extract, and a bit of dark chocolate, as desired<br/>Water</p><p>Boil or heat water. In a mug, stir together the cocoa, sugar, salt, and about two tablespoons of water until it forms a paste and the sugar is dissolved. Slowly incorporate about a third of a cup of hot water, followed by milk, vanilla, and cream.<br/>For an extra treat, stir in a few chocolate chips or dark chocolate bits before it cools down. Stir it throughout drinking to incorporate.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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